Brave the Light
by SorridoSole
Summary: On an autumn night many years ago, Godric Gryffindor flees the King's wrath, only to meet a mysterious boy by the name of Salazar. Founders. OneShot.


** Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Summary: On an autumn night many years ago, Godric Gryffindor flees his father's wrath, only to meet a mysterious boy in the woods. Founders. OneShot.**

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><p>As Godric stumbled through the shadowy wood, it occurred to him that what he feared was not the approaching dark of night, for which he was defenseless and utterly unprepared, but the light he'd thought he'd known. In the light of the day he could see the blunder of men, evil men, but in the dark, only his imagination could cause him terror. Dark was comfort. Light was fearful. Away from the setting sun Godric ran.<p>

He regretted how quickly his lungs betrayed his frail body in flight; He'd never been strong, his father had been quick to point it out every time he lost a fight to his brother. What a brother: Prince Harris, perfect heir to the thrown, the light to Godric's dark. Harris the strong, the lean, the handsome boy whose mere smile could defeat armies, as equal to the pinky on his left hand, which slaughtered witches across the land in mobs of burnings and drowning's, waves of tyrannical orders ripping apart the justice of the land, all to the pride of his beloved father King. Godric, the sickly brother, was nothing but "pretty thoughts" laying siege in his head, and an equally "pretty" voice to speak them with. Useless. Frail. Pathetic. A back-up plan, should Harris one day die in battle.

"_You dare betray the bearer of your flesh, your own creator, the controller of your fate? You sentence yourself to death!"_

"_Father, if you mean that I betray You, I believe that's sacrilegious."_

He changed pace, now stumbling slowing, the burning in his thin chest resisting desperate gasps for air. If only he'd been born above the ills of the world, he wouldn't run like a coward into the night.

"_Unnatural, uncivilized, unworthy abomination, you know not the word of God when you betray him by your very nature!" _

He heard water in the distance, and decided this to be his goal. He would rest awhile upon some riverbed stones, then take up the night as a shielding cloak for his journey. By morning the woods would be swarmed with a search party on his behalf, a hunting party, to slay the tyrant son of the king and burn him at the stake, but he would be long gone.

_Treason. Work of the Devil._

For now, he might be safe.

"_You work to destroy the empire I've created."_

"_I work to create the empire you've destroyed, if only for a moment you'd look at all you've done."_

The water was louder now, far louder than it should have been, but Godric knew it must only be his mind turning tricks. His feet crunched loudly over dried leaves and branches. The wind whistled heavily through the sky, pushing against his favor, as if all of nature suddenly wanted him home.

What was home? Was it the castle on a hill? He couldn't recall a time when "home" had felt warmer than frigid castle stone. His mother, her life gone when his began, had taken with her the life of the castle., and the good from the kingdom. He, a runt of the litter, a scrawny, shy boy of fourteen, held her precious ideals in his weak heart, the love of good brave people, all equal in their own right, but never could he act on them. In this, in his cowardice, he felt his mother to be truly dead, and so too the hope for a good kingdom once more.

A twig snapped loudly beneath his boot. The sound of water stopped.

Godric looked up from his contemplation. Where he thought would be a river was nothing of the sort. A boy, a peasant boy not much older than himself starred at him, one hand capping a water pouch as if trapping an insect in his palms.

The boys starred at one another for a long moment. Godric didn't fidget (it was the one part of etiquette he'd learned well.) The other boy continued to cap his water pouch, forever squinting with his unusual jade green eyes.

"I thought a stream near." Godric said, finally stepping forward awkwardly. The peasant boy didn't lose ground, but he pulled his pouch closer to his chest. Godric thought for a moment he might show rank to the boy, but he abandoned that idea. He walked casually, his arms swinging like twigs on loose knot ends as they often did, listening for the absent sound of water. "I heard a stream. Didn't you?"

"I heard nothing, m'lord." The boy said stoically. Godric's eye's widened.

"Why do you address me 'm'lord'?" He asked, his voice wavering as it did when he was caught off guard. He cursed his weakness internally.

"Forgive me, sir. I know not your proper title." The boy recited. Well rehearsed. The boy was cunning, and he was hiding something. The stranger jerked his head quickly towards Godric. "Your clothes."

"My clothes?" Godric asked, spreading his arms he looked down to examine his torso and legs. His shirt and tunic were the plainest he owned, and his boots a soft, modest leather. He didn't understand.

"If you're trying to disguise yourself a peasant, don't wear something new." The boy said. Now he stepped forward, having earned the right to advance. "What are you called?"

"If I told you, you would regret your informality." Godric said, sticking up his nose as he'd seen Harris do on hundreds of occasions. He supposed the effect left something to be desired, because the peasant boy smirked.

"I doubt formality would do a thing, when we have nobility on the run, not wanting to be caught." The boy still had his hand over his pouch, but he was less focused on his hands now, and more on starring Godric in the eye, searching for secrets. "From what? Did you kill someone?"

"No!" Godric defended.

"Then what? Did you disgrace your family name? Or were you banished?"

"Perhaps both." Godric admitted. The boy smiled a nasty smile. Godric cringed. "I'll just be on my way."

"No you won't." The boy's eyes were twinkling strangely. Godric felt his stomach twist at the sight. "You wanted water."

"I don't need it, and there isn't any here." He said. He knew he should leave, but something kept him planted at the spot.

"Prince Godric."

The boy wielded his name like a weapon, brandishing it in his unarmed face. Godric starred at the boy, hoping the relentless starring would earn him respect in battle. He was painfully aware of how small his shoulders were, ad how easily his frail bones could break. His heart tried desperately to escape its cage. He took a breath.

"I'm sorry, I don't know of your name." Godric replied. His voice still wavered, and he was ashamed of it, but his tone was slightly stronger than even he expected it to be. The boy noticed.

"Salazar, your highness. The pleasure is mine." He sneered, bowing low, making it plain that the pleasure would have been greater should he be greeting a poisonous snake.

"Well, Salazar," Godric spat his name, making it plain that if his name was a weapon, so was his opponent's. "What's in the bag?"

A shiver. Salazar's eyes gleamed with rage.

"Nothing you should trouble your pretty head with, Your Highness."

There was the word "pretty" again, tied up neatly in a forceful punch to his dignity. His intestines squirmed with shame, and anger. For the first time since confronting his father, he felt a true swell of rage, and with it came the strange sharpness, the vivid senses piecing every corner of the world, a feeling that nothing could escape his knowledge. Something within Salazar's pouch was humming with the same sharpness. Godric glared at the boy.

"Open your pouch."

Salazar made to protest, but Godric stopped him.

"By my right as his royal highness Prince Godric, son of our King, I command you to open your pouch immediately."

"As if saying the words will add meaning. We both know you've no power here,…. Your Highness." But Salazar bit his lip, nervously ringing his hands over the pouch.

"You've no idea the power I possess." He hissed.

An image flashed before his eyes, a look of terror across his father's face, a static light leaping from his own fingertips, fear of what he'd done. Did he trust himself enough to let himself act with sheer power? Or should he remain a defenseless maggot, standing vulnerable to an unknown foe?

He cracked his knuckles. He wasn't a coward. Fear the light if he must, he would face it like a brother.

"Have it your way." Godric said. He raised his hand.

From his fingers, lightning pierced the air, reaching out across space to rip apart the pouch. From it's tiny contents burst a mighty flood of water, water far more than should exist within. A crystal wave pushed towards Godric, who stood planted in a feeble stance. The tide grew taller, and taller, and finally with the force of a stampede, Godric was forced to the ground by a sheet of water, drenching him, and leaving his sprawled in disarray, coughing the water from his throat.

It took him a moment to realize what had just occurred, and still a moment longer for him to focus on Salazar, a scorch mark of lightning marring his tunic across his side, who starred at Godric with a curling lip.

Salazar stepped forward, rubbing his hand along his side to assess the damage. Godric scrambled to his feet.

"You're a wizard." Godric said, debating between fear and amazement at the boy's strange trick. Salazar caught his eye.

"As are you." He replied. His lips twisted into a bemused smile. "What the King must think."

"He was not aware until recently…." Godric swallowed thickly. "He's not in a state for easy thinking at the moment."

"He'll have you slaughtered."

"He'll have to find me first." Godric said. He shook the water from his hair. "And you? I don't suppose you've any advice for escaping his witch hunts. It seems you practice in secret."

"Don't attack first." He said cheekily. Had it been any other day, Godric would have blushed. Today, he felt bold. An idea suddenly encircled his brain, a cyclone of thoughts ripping up his precious plan of escape. Here he stood, with a boy before him to help him on his way, to give him power in a way he couldn't imagine. Godric stepped forward, sticking out a hand.

"I propose an alliance, of sorts."

"For what on my end?" Salazar eyed the hand suspiciously. "and with a stranger?"

"The absolute promise that I'll not singe you when your back is turned."

"In exchange for-"

"The knowledge that I won't be drowned should I sleep with my mouth open."

Salazar laughed lightly, but his eyes remained cynical and cold. "You propose a long term bargain."

'I've no other place to go, no other things to do." Godric stated, hoping not to sound as desperate as he thought he would. "Wherever you're going, I'd like to go with you."

"Why would I agree to that?"

"We can learn from each other." Godric said quickly. Then he added. "I've not know another wizard, but for the King's mage, who was put to death years ago."

"Nor have I." Salazar said, this time his tone rang with an unfamiliar sincerity. His eyes now sparked with promise.

"I'll protect your secret, if you protect mine."

Salazar took a breath, and grasped Godric's hand. His smirk grew to a genuine smile. Godric grinned in return. They stood like this for a long moment, until Godric finally broke off.

"I should warn you, by mid-day tomorrow the king will set ransom for my head."

"Then _you_ should warn _him_." Salazar said, "By the evening he'll have wished he never sought to destroy magic in the first place."

He jumped upon a ledge and began to walk through the woods, intending for Godric to follow. When he didn't hear the prince behind him, he stopped. Godric starred at him, puzzled by his response.

"How?" He asked. Salazar hopped down from his ledge, his face handsomely impish, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He walked to Godric until they were nose to nose.

"I said I'd never known another Wizard." He whispered. The skin around his eyes folded into dark creases, as if he were a creature wearing a human mask.

Godric nodded. Salazar broke into a crazed grin. His entire face was alit with wayward inspiration.

"That doesn't mean I haven't known a Witch."

-The-end.-

Review please! Thanks for reading!


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